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MUNDANE,
run of the mill are words that not only don’t exist in
internationally renowned UK based sculptor and visual artist Avtarjeet
Dhanjal’s lexicon but are an anathema to his very being. No wonder,
any interface with him stirs clear of the usual Q & As. Queries
like how, where and when are irrelevant. Thus the artist whom noted
art critic Richard Cork has hailed as "An invaluable contribution
to understanding the achievement of an artist who, nourished by the
tension between the cultures of East and West, occupies a singular
place in contemporary sculpture", refuses to halt at his
milestones.
Even though he has exhibited with who’s who like Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth and held exhibitions in Sweden, Finland, Austria and Russia among other nations. While his site-specific works have dotted the world and he has featured in BBC’s "Open Studio", a 30-minute interview by Harold Fouks and Contemporaries a documentary by Channel Four, he doesn’t take you on a self-eulogising trip. Instead, Dhanjal dwells upon the profound. Larger and deeper issues of life engage the artist who has disengaged himself from "making objects" and being part of the caravan. Preoccupied with metaphysical concepts, going beyond the objects to ideas and freezing the same through his art, right now he is questioning the one-dimensional concept of time. He elaborates, "In India time was always cyclical. Abstract, nigun, maaya, akal anant, amoorat were concepts that we not only understood but also grew up with. But in western thought, time moves in one irreversible direction, exists only now. Hence things must be consumed and must have a price put to it even though abundance is a state, not a quantity and idea of shortage is man-made." The same interpretation of reality applies to the visual art world and puts an unwarranted premium on art works. He is not suggesting that an artist should starve himself to death, only hinting that each one of us, artists included, must have an option to step out of the rat race. "Artist", he muses "can survive without going by the Saatchi bend i.e. without bowing to market pressures. It is bad enough that unlike other arts, where you need thousands of admirers to make you successful, in the visual art world one critic and one buyer can make you. Couple it with objectifying art and the art scenario is swamped with objects and objects alone." So much so that he shares how British artist Tracey Emin’s My bed with explicit signs of nocturnal activity is bought at a phenomenal price. In India, installations, he agrees, are largely misunderstood and created only to show oneself as different. Indian artists, too, he fears, have fallen in the trap of artifice, of astronomical price tags. He reasons, "Indian artists didn’t bloom in their own roots but in art schools mired in western thinking." Sure enough he too went to arts schools of similiar kinds, first in Chandigarh and then to St Martins School of Art, London, before he arrived at his distinctive idiom, which is inspired, heavily from Indian aesthetics and art. Growing up in a village in Punjab, the open skies and starry nights also rubbed on to the artist whose ability to use natural elements translates into a dynamic visual vocabulary. In the words of art historian Partha Mitter, " Avtarjeet Dhanjal is a remarkably original`A0sculptor whose works reflect our increasingly pressing concerns with ecology...". "An artist," he asserts, "cannot be insular yet must learn to isolate himself. For only then will an artist’s intuition come into play." He, however, rues the fact that artists have forgotten to pause, ponder and contemplate. Intending to divide time between Shropshire, UK and New Delhi, he wants his artistic brethren to realise, "All education is about re-evaluating one’s assets and drawbacks." His homecoming of sorts is not propelled by any ulterior motives, either to sell his works or to hanker after site-specific assignments. In fact, even creating for him right now is incidental, not the prime mover. He is here only to observe and quotes the lines of a song "I walk on this beautiful planet wondering, wondering, being amazed by the beauty around. Only course left for me is to walk all the way." Only as he walks awestruck, he is taking stock, internalising it. It will all flow one day. Will it gush forth in Delhi? He is not telling. All he reveals is a seminar on idea of truth he is toying with. Oh, idea again. Well, Dhanjal knows too well that ideas as opposed to objects have an intrinsic worth. Perhaps, everlasting, too, as his art is likely to be.
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